Escape from the Manicomio
by Manicomio
Summary: She doesn't know who or where she is. All she knows is John is the only one who is there for her. But when he dies what will she do? - Alice's history of her change - First FanFic - If someone wants to review it please contact me.


**Disclaimer: I do not own. I will never own. Alice is Stephanie's. The idea of John is Stephanie's. But I named him! Haha!**

**A/N This is my first fanfic. I would love it if you guys could give me some feedback and tell me if you want me to continue it. Kinda short. Sorry no beta. I am fairly new at this. I spell checked but there are no guarantees on grammar.**

**Note: Manicomio means insane asylum in Espanol. My Spanish is limited to what I learn in Spanish class at school. But it is my favorite word. Hence my name. And I thought it was fitting to the story. :)**

**Summary: She doesn't remember her name, she doesn't know where she is, or who she is for that matter. All she knows is that there is one person in her life that is worth living for: John. But when John is killed, what will she do and where will she go? [Alice's history and where she came from, my version of her escape from the insane asylum.]**

I don't remember the last time I spoke. It had to be years. Every day was pure torture and nothing held any interest, even life. I could not remember my name, I could not remember my family, and I couldn't remember why I was even here.

I knew there was some reason, however, no one would tell me. So I have lived my life in a dank and dark cell, closed off from the world I was not sure existed.

This shadowy cell that was my home was the only thing I had ever known. Maybe, I did know something other than this but that was gone past my memory into the depths of imagination.

Cobwebs stretched from corner to corner and from object to object so that some places appeared to be webs and not objects. Dust rested upon everything. The hay that was my bed was scrunched in the corner. It was moldy and had a putrid smell. I chose to sleep on the hard stone floor most nights, or what I thought was night, trying to ignore the scuttles of cockroaches and other creatures who also share this dwelling.

I had no was of really knowing what the time, day, season, or year was considering the only light that ever appeared, showed twice a day, through the tiny barred window at the top of the door and the food hole at the bottom.

Twice a day there came the only good thing about my life. John. He was a young and attractive man, but I never felt any feelings toward him, just gratitude. He was kind and gentle with me, unlike the other men that guarded me. He would always say hello, though he knew that I would never answer. He was the one thing that told me I was still alive, that I was still here. If it wasn't for him I would have been gone a long time ago, like the others I hear screaming down the hall.

He was always the one who came now. He was always the one who's face I would see through the window.

My stomach growled. It was almost time.

Then, the light came on, I knew from experience that I needed to close my eyes as he came so I wouldn't be blinded by the glow that shone from the cracks.

I head the cover of the food slot scrape open. "Hello again." He said. He knew very well I wouldn't answer. "I hope you're still in there!" he said with a chuckle. I couldn't see what was so funny considering the only place I _didn't_ want to be was 'in there'. But I was, as always, touched by his concern.

When he had first started coming, I could not figure out why he wanted to talk to me. I was so useless, _no one_ cared about me. Obviously my family, whom I always dreamed I might have had, never cared about me enough to get me out. No one had ever talked to me. There was no reason to.

I used to speak, cuss out those who tried to help and yell at those who kept me here. But I soon realized there was no good reason for it and I became secluded. No one cared and no one paid me any attention except to feed me.

As John would talk, his voice like comfort bells, I knew he actually cared about my well being. I would not craw into a corner and hide like I would with the others. My tiny body fit well under the small desk that sat in the corner. When John would come I would stay where I was so he knew I had heard him.

"Here is some food, as always," he continued.

I looked at him, searching. Something I never did. His voice held something I had never heard before: fear. Something was wrong, and something inside of my mind told that it was about me.

**A/N Hope you liked it. Like I said, first fanfic, but I really would appreciate the reviews!**


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